Discovery: The Journey and Trials of the Corps of Reclamation
by lordxtalon
Summary: Follow an incredible journey of some NCR troops who deal with the hardships, beauty and nature of the new United States. Contains no characters from the games and only mild reference to events that took place in New Vegas and Fallout 2. Rated M for everything you can be rated M for. Thank you.
1. 1

The entire town stretched from one end of the Boring Highway to the other. Starting at the Not-So-Boring Bar and Grill the street weaved to an end at the Clatsop Hotel. It was beyond belief that a town could be named Boring. Yet, the Oregon territory seemed to match this namesake quite well so far.

Gray clouds in the night sky pelted the small town with heavy rain, and never seemed to stop. Inhaling the scent of fresh pine and water Silas Reed trudged through the muddy thoroughfare heading toward the hotel. Peering down the road the tall man could barely make out the bright lights of his destination flickering against the nightly downpour. He struggled to even walk to the hotel against the mud and biting cold deluge on the top of his hood.

By the time he reached the hotel's porch his clothes were soaked. A lone NCR trooper stood sentinel at the entrance. Dragging on a cigarette, the soldier's eyes strayed upward to watch Silas remove his hood revealing short dark hair.

"Sergeant." Said the trooper dutifully as Silas approached, shaking his soaking attire in the vain attempt to dry.

Squinting down at the fair skinned soldier through the built up crud in his eyes Sergeant Silas Reed muttered the word, "Name?" through his chattering teeth.

The young man gave a lazy salute as he replied, "Private Tim Gibson, Sir."

Silas only responded with a quick nod. The boy was young that's for sure. Judging by the peach fuzz coming from his chin the sergeant could only guess that the boy was somewhere around nineteen.

He doubted that Gibson had been enlisted for very long. Most of the lower ranked troopers were basically civilians who, for the most part, were quickly shoved into service for this mission. Mostly, they were just locals who knew little in the ways of military conduct; kids, who were rushed through a month of boot camp and training because the captains running this thing figured they'd be useful.

Silas leaned on the wall next to Gibson and fished out one of his own cigarettes. They sat smoking in silence for a few seconds until Silas mumbled, "These regulation ponchos are such a joke. They don't hold against these rains at all."

Gibson gave a quick scoff, "I hear you, Sir. I heard that when Cap'n Flynn's group arrived earlier near all of 'em came in with tattered leather where their raincoats should'a been."

Silas shook his head. Captain Flynn's group could only have been marching a week or so from Klamath. He could only hope they'd be able to replace these meagre raincoats before setting out from here. With a slight grimace he continued the conversation, "So why'd they pick you for this, Gibson?"

With a slight exhale of smoke from his nostrils Gibson started, "Well, me and my pa were loggers up here in the northern territory. Ever since the NCR's been reaching further north we've been capitalizing well on the timber up here." The boy gave a slight pause of contemplation before continuing. "Anyways, Captain Maxwell was asking around the local villages for young men who knew areas around the northern ends of the territory and beyond. And well, figured I fit the bill."

"Sounds like you came to the decision a bit quick there."

"Well Sergeant, between you and me, I was ready for some adventure. Get away from here for a few years, forge my own path, and come back with some money, land and a helluva tale. I'm ready to see what's out there."

Silas admired the boy's attitude but he himself experienced enough to be beyond such optimism. "I'm sure we'll see it, Gibson." He replied taking the last puff of his cigarette before flicking it into the street. "Are the other sergeants in the hotel already?"

"Yes sir. I think they're all still at their table probably waitin' on you."

He ended the conversation with a quick nod and salute to Gibson before entering the hotel. The bright, sudden light dizzied him. Wiping his mud crusted boots against the doormat he began to survey the room.

The lobby had been fashioned into a makeshift tavern with tables sprawled past a crooked bar. The owner was a lanky, wisp of a man who clearly hadn't seen this much business in years; he scurried about the bustling room, table to table, filling the tankards of the near thirty NCR troops that had taken up residence here. It wasn't long before Silas' attention was caught by Sergeant Aguilar waving him toward a table. Weaving his way through the din of soldier's conversations Silas reached the round, splintery hunk of wood the sergeants used for a table.

The three other sergeants hushed their light conversation as Silas joined them. Sitting down he swiveled his head around the table to assess who he sat with. To his left sat Staff Sergeant Ryan Aguilar; a tan skinned man of his late twenties whose face looked like it had been carved out of a tree. At his right sat the fair skinned, Master Sergeant Isaac Maddux, a spectacled man who looked more suitable to be an office executive than soldier. Lastly, across from him sat a pale looking woman he did not know. She had a stern face with auburn hair loosely pulled back into a ponytail.

"Did you come in with Captain Flynn this afternoon?" he said loud enough to be heard by the woman in front him.

With a quick nod she crumpled her face into a grimace. "Yeah, ten of us got in a few hours ago. The rain kicked our asses something fierce coming up here from Klamath." She said just barely audible enough to hear.

Silas lightly bit his tongue at the thought of what still needed to be prepared to battle this weather. He let these worries settle in his head before regaining his social graces. He started talking, "Well I assume Aguilar and Maddux have introduced themselves, I'm First Sergeant Silas Reed. Who are you?"

"Sergeant First Class Sarah Medford, Sir. I was stationed at Camp Crater in Ashland before I was picked up for this."

Silas opened his mouth to reply as the room quickly fell quiet. Turning his head, he saw two men walking down the stairs. His habits as a military officer kicked in at the sight of the two captains. Quickly rising to his feet his voice filled the room. "Company! Attention!"

The room filled with the instant sound of every NCR trooper standing up from their chairs.

The two officers stopped at the bottom of the stair and looked out to the crowded tavern. One was a tall, oak tree of a man with thinning, ginger hair. The other stood a few inches shorter and seemed slender in comparison to his companion. The shorter man peered around the room; he was baby-faced with short, brown hair and piercing blue eyes. Silas quickly noted a large scrolled up paper in his hand.

It was a brief moment before the taller one, Captain Flynn, addressed the room. "Thank you Sergeant Reed. However, I feel I should remind the whole of you that such military trivialities are unnecessary now. From this moment on you should not think yourselves as soldiers but instead explorers of the great unknown." Captain William Flynn began to tread lightly around the room as he spoke. The creaking floorboards beneath the captain's feet soon became the only sound to accompany his commanding voice. "Your rank and enlistment now are a mere reminder of the discipline and order we will need on this endeavor. Should the need arise we expect you all to act like the New California Republic professionals you all are…"

Silas noticed the men and women of the room began fidgeting and sneaking peeks around to see the faces of their peers. Some of their faces were filled with slight nervousness and others brimmed with excitement. Straight faced, the sergeant cast his attention back to Captain Flynn.

"…And now that we have gathered the final nine of our party this morning. I will hand the floor over to Captain Maxwell to give you all the greater details of our adventure." Flynn's voice commanded attention toward his fierce eyed companion.

"Men." Spouted the shorter captain a little awkwardly. "Flynn and I have spoken to every single one of you, but now that our whole group is together I think it's best to hash out what exactly we're all here for." Maxwell gave a motion for everyone to go ahead and sit back down.

The chairs seemed to collectively croak as everyone seated themselves. Silas scanned the room, quickly counting the number of total number of troopers. Twenty-seven, including himself, twenty-eight once he remembered Gibson outside. Before Silas could begin wondering if their current number was sufficient Captain Maxwell continued softly.

"As most of you know, our president Aaron Kimball has entrusted me to lead an expedition of discovery to the east. I, in turn, have entrusted every single one of you as a viable and necessary candidate to help me execute this expedition." Maxwell's voice had a tendency to awkwardly pitch itself. It was apparent that he was not very comfortable addressing everyone. Yet, he continued.

"An expedition of this magnitude has not taken place since before the Great War. It will be perilous. The full dangers of this former United States are beyond any of our comprehension. With that in mind, the greatest intellectuals of our republic have surveyed every old world map available and with their knowledge imparted to us a manageable route to the Atlantic Ocean."

Captain Maxwell paused as he began to fumble with the large scroll in his hand. From the middle of the room Captain Flynn quickly motioned for a pair of troopers to hold out the paper for everyone to see. As the troopers positioned themselves to give everyone a proper view Silas gazed at the large, pre-war map of the United States.

Captain Maxwell quickly motioned for a trooper in the crowd to join him. "Men, this is Corporal Joseph York. He has been educated and groomed in navigation, cartography and knows our route inside and out." The indicated trooper was a lanky, black man whose most noticeable feature seemed to be his crooked nose. York began to address the crowd in a booming voice.

"Hello everyone, I'm going to show you guys the route as it stands right now. We will make the journey from our current position to the Columbia River, here…" York pointed at the map showing the location of the river. The corporal began to slowly trace the route as he continued. "…After some time heading east we will land here and make our way along this pre-war highway until we come across this large Missouri River, here."

Everyone looked enthrallingly at the map, no doubt judging how much toilsome work they'd be in for. Silas grit his teeth at the thought of it.

"This river should take us all the way to what was formerly Saint Louis, Missouri. From there things will be a bit less clear but we figure we will make our way north to the Ohio River which should take us as far as Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. And once we're there it's just a quick hop until we've reached the coasts of the Atlantic."

Captain Maxwell gave the corporal a hearty pat on the back before gesturing him to sit back down. Once York took his seat the captain started up again.

"There you have it, as you can see, ours is a mission of discovery, science and adventure. Now that you all have seen our plan drawn out in full is there anyone here who wishes to back out. I assure you there will be no repercussions for doing so. This journey will be hard, and even our mildest predictions say it will be two years before we are back home. I do not judge anyone here for saying they are not up to this task." Maxwell paused and let the room settle on his words.

The anticipation that someone would refuse grew in the room like a wildfire. Long moments passed before Maxwell curled his lip in what Silas could only figure was a grin. The captain nodded almost to himself before he spoke again.

"Thank you all. We predict to leave this town for our march north in three days' time. I advise all of you to get some good night's rest before then and if there are any problems to let an officer know immediately. Sergeants, you are to meet with Captain Flynn and I before you retire, the rest of you are dismissed."

The room quickly buzzed with activity once more as everyone slowly began to make their way upstairs. As the troops began to make their way to the rooms Silas turned to Sergeant Maddux. The man gave him a quick shrug before gesturing that they should move to see the captains.

Aguilar, Medford, Maddux and himself seated themselves opposite Captains Flynn and Maxwell. Before any of them had time to fidget the owner of the hotel descended upon the table.

"Do you need anything, sirs and lady?" The man said quickly, no doubt trying his best to as inviting as possible. Captain Maxwell looked at him and shook his head before turning to Flynn who politely told the tavern owner to leave them alone.

Once the six of them were the only ones remaining in the room Captain Maxwell began to speak with a more comfortable tone than when he addressed the men. "Well, now that all of us are here it seems time for us to have a bit of organizational talk…" Maxwell paused as if expecting one of them to say something. Before anyone could find words Captain Flynn began where his partner left off.

"So the way we figure it our final roster comes out to twenty-eight. Maxwell and I figure our best way to organize this corps will be to assign each of you five troopers to be responsible for. The two leftovers will be corporals Joseph York (Who you've all met) and Miles Brock. Those two men will be our charges and assistants." The large captain looked at the four sergeants before turning to Maxwell.

The fierce eyed captain gave his own assessing glare toward each of the sergeants as he slowly spoke. "Are we all good with this set up?" he asked sincerely.

Silas turned to look at the other sergeants as they each mildly nodded and agreed. He leaned back in his chair a little before giving his own quick nod toward the captains. He couldn't help but think how much he hated being in charge of other people. Of the numerous things about this job he disliked the biggest one would always be the guilt of seeing someone you're responsible for screw up, and more often than not screwing up in this line of work meant ending up in the ground. It didn't matter the number of stars or chevrons the government sticks on your sleeve they may as well just be a reminder of how many dead kids you were responsible for.

Staring at the table Silas listened as Maxwell continued to talk.

"We've got lists here of your charges." He said sliding four pieces of paper toward each of the sergeants in front him. "If you have any problems with these selections see us before we leave here. Are there any other concerns before we get started tomorrow?"

Silas' head came up quickly. "We need better clothes for the rains up here. The regulation uniforms weren't designed with this type of weather in mind." He said to his commanders.

The other sergeants nodded as Flynn steadily replied, "We hear you. The plan right now is to trade for hides and pelts at the town of Gresham at the riverside. The locals probably know a good bit about raingear. We're prepared to trade."

Maddux quickly chimed in "Speaking of trade, what exactly are we bringing along for this ride? I was doing inventory today and I'm not sure our goods are sufficient."

Captain Maxwell flexed his hand on the table. He coolly began to respond, "The provisions have been meticulously prepared by the republic and myself. Right now we are going to leave here with around three hundred pounds of assorted trade goods, around four guns per person, tens of thousands of rounds of ammunition, military rations and foods that should last us months out there on top of what we scavenge and hunt, and in reality those're just the easy things to list." The captain paused as if wondering if he forgot something before continuing, "The full inventory will be done and listed before we leave. Even if we aren't equipped with everything we need I have faith in our ability to trade and adapt."

Silas nodded absently to himself. He trusted the words of his captain; he wouldn't have signed up for this otherwise. The conversation soon came to a close and the sergeants were dismissed. Going up the stairs Silas gave his first look toward his list of charges: Corporal Emily Schaffer, Private Jason Lin, Private John Shields, Private Harold Glass, Private Evelyn Tuttle. Tomorrow he'd have to meet all of them and make sure everybody was on the straight and narrow to get this thing done.

Entering his small, dimly lit room the sergeant undressed out of his now damp clothes. Enveloping himself in the bed he let himself for a moment feel excited about this grand adventure they were about to partake in. Just as quickly as the thought arose the sergeant passed out.


	2. 2

The sound of faint steps creaking through the hallway stirred Silas awake. The room was still dark and the hotel seemed still. No sooner had his eyes opened than he saw Sergeant Aguilar's chiseled face appear in his doorway.

"You up Reed?"

Sitting himself up, he nodded to Aguilar who disappeared back through the doorway. Worst thing about military promotions seemed to be with each one the sleep time lessened. These days the sergeants were expected to be up around an hour before reveille.

He stood up and lumbered his way to the chamber pot in the corner. After relieving himself, he started throwing the articles of his uniform onto the bed, while under his breath he began to list each piece of the attire: underwear, undershirt, socks, camo cargo pants, camo button-up, boots. The sergeant was thankful to be rid of the helmets that he was forced to wear in the Mojave.

With his clothes on the bed Silas walked toward a small wash basin in the corner of his room. The water inside looked far from fresh and proved to be annoyingly cold. Unpacking a small bag of toiletries Silas started to brush his teeth and shave.

He enjoyed the stillness of the mornings greatly. The calm before the toil of the day came down. Gazing through the water drops on the window pane he could just barely make out the sky's color going from dark gray to lighter gray. The rain seemed to have a let up but didn't stop the little town from covering itself in fog. In the distance the pine trees looked like a dull watercolor painting. Silas forgot how much he missed the sight of trees. Years in the Mojave and deserts of the lower republic made this job an easy call.

As he moved to the decrepit bed to dress himself, Silas eyed up the coat and poncho hanging in the corner of the room. The regulation jacket was made of a beige brahmin leather with Silas' three chevrons sewed into the sleeve. He really hated looking at them. They seemed to be a constant reminder of the hardships of his job. Shaking his head, the sergeant finished dressing up putting on his belt, sidearm, coat and poncho.

He made sure the door didn't creak as he slowly made his way downstairs to the other officers. Stalking down the stairs his nostrils were filled with the aroma of food cooking. No doubt the well compensated owner of this place earning his money. But his stomach would have to wait.

The other five officers already seemed well situated at a candlelit table in the center of the lobby. Captain Maxwell slowly paced while Silas took his seat. Peering around everyone seemed rather chipper after last night's pep talk. Aguilar's normal grimace seemed to mildly situate itself to a curled lip, Maddux sucked down on a ridiculous looking pipe no doubt filled with the cheapest tobacco imaginable, Medford contently leaned back heavily in her chair with her boots on the table, and Captain Flynn stared blankly toward a window slightly humming a tune to himself.

After a few seconds passed Captain Maxwell addressed everyone. "Good morning. I hope everyone slept well." Silas wondered if the captain's tone ever strayed away from serious and rigid. "There's much that needs to be done before we depart from here. Firstly, you all will get acquainted with the groups we've assigned. After breakfast there'll be maybe a fifteen-minute window or so for you guys to get a brief talk with them."

Silas ran his hand through his dark hair hoping that his people were competent. Though, the years in this job seemed to make him doubt the possibility. In any assignment there would be a few problem children. He could only hope that Flynn and Maxwell picked people suited for this work.

Captain Maxwell continued his talk, "So the assignments today will be like this: Aguilar, you and I will take your group to scout and salvage to the northwest…"

At this news Aguilar gave an acknowledging grunt and nod to his captain.

"…Medford, you and Captain Flynn will be doing the same but toward the northeast…"

The female sergeant gave a glance to Captain Flynn who replied with a smile before saying, "Yes, sir."

"…Meanwhile, Reed you're to stay at the hotel and take a full inventory of provisions, equipment, and everything else we're bringing. After that is finished you will begin to pack."

Silas didn't think that too bad an assignment. Easy enough work to size up the people in his care, while also being integral to the journey ahead. He quickly replied with a firm nod and "Okay."

Maddux already raised his eyebrows sarcastically in anticipation for his assignment.

"…Maddux your people will talk to the locals around town; press them for as much information about the land around here as you can. After your work is done you will assist Sergeant Reed in packing."

The spectacled sergeant gave a quick grin and "No problem."

Maxwell gave an inquisitive glare toward the sergeants before going to check on the status of breakfast. The officers started some idle chatter about their assignments which didn't seem to last long before Maxwell alerted the sentry outside the hotel to call reveille.

Minutes after the call, the six officers leaned against a far wall of the lobby inspecting the soldiers as they were served breakfast. The sight and smell of the beef and steamed vegetables quickly reminded Silas of his hunger. Once the enlisted men were all served and eating Captain Maxwell gestured toward the four sergeants to get their food. Silas started to devour down his own portion of brahmin steak and veggies with vigor. The owner of the hotel must have slaved for most of the morning. It seemed he had to use a whole brahmin to feed everyone and gave the officers the choicer cuts of the animal. Soon after Silas had begun eating his deliciously medium-rare steak the captains were served their meal.

After about fifteen minutes of eating the breakfast ended and the troops were corralled to their sergeants. Each sergeant found their own mildly secluded area to talk to their people. Silas chose to bring his five charges out onto the porch.

The group of troopers strewed about the deck, leaning against walls or pillars. At a glance the lot of them looked about as random as could be imagined: two women and three men all of varying builds and ethnicities. One particularly attractive woman had two chevrons on her sleeve marking her a corporal.

The scent of rain comforted him as he began to address his congregation. "Okay everyone, I'm sure most of you know, but I am First Sergeant Silas Reed. You guys can address me as Sergeant, Sarge, Silas, Reed or whatever you want. I'd prefer in front of the captains for you guys to address me as Sergeant Reed, or Sergeant."

Reading the group Silas hoped to eventually get them comfortable. He took a quick pause before continuing, "So a little background on me and then we'll go around for each of you. I'm about twenty-four years old and about four or five of those have been in the army. I served three tours, two in the Mojave and one in Shady Sands. Before that I was a farmer in the northern territory."

Not long after his introduction Silas pushed each of them to give their name and brief summary of themselves. Fifteen minutes passed before everyone had been given a chance to speak. His five people proved to be quite distinct: a shorter Asian private named Jason Lin, a balding, inquisitive looking man named Harry Glass, a young, mousy faced girl named Evelyn Tuttle, a bear of a man by the name of John Shields, and lastly the corporal with dirty blond hair Emily Schaffer.

All of them, save the corporal, were specially recruited for the expedition. Most of them seemed to have some type of experience in the upper California or Oregon territory as hunters, loggers or traders. Glass, however, was a former physician and amateur botanist.

The sergeant figured he'd have more time to muse about his group as they worked and soon pushed everyone back into the Clatsop Hotel to start a fully notarized list of the inventory. The system for the inventory consisted of four people sorting and listing items aloud to Corporal Schaffer and Silas who independently wrote down the listed items on clipboards.

The hours soon passed. Maxwell was right about the inventory being more extensive than it seemed. The tools alone seemed boundless, scores of axes, knives, saws and other tools were listed to Silas and the corporal. The captains even thought to bring along a small forge for metal crafting.

Soon Maddux's people came along and began to take the already inventoried items out to the far end of the town. Captain Flynn had organized a makeshift stable out there which housed around a dozen pack brahmin to help carry their provisions to the Columbia River.

In what seemed like no time the clouds began to glow with the setting sun. Silas' head seemed filled with the trivialities of his list. More than once he had let cigarette ashes land on his paper while he blankly contemplated the entire list of provisions. In his thoughts stirred countless items: tents, guns, ammunition, tools, food, clothes, maps, journals, assorted trade goods like beads, belt buckles, jewelry, coins, caps, clothes. The list never seemed to end.

The workday seemed to officially come to a close when the two captains returned to the hotel with Aguilar and Medford's party. Silas figured that he had finished around one-third to half of the total inventory and he and Maddux would make quicker work of it tomorrow. He made sure to check his own list against Corporal Schaffer's before giving his final day's status report to Maxwell and Flynn.

The captains seemed contented with his and Maddux's reports and quietly conferred with each other all the information that needed to be shared about the day. They also informed him that the nightly guard duty of the hotel would now work in four hour shifts between members of the sergeant's squads.

The tone of the tavern that night seemed to shift greatly from yesterday. Now the troopers seemed to sit with their sergeants and in their own groups. Everyone seemed to be getting to know the people that they'd hopefully be working hand in hand with for the next two years to come.

The sergeant soon sat down at a long, splintered table that housed his own squad of people. They had really begun to come together throughout the day. Lin and Tuttle seemed to find common ground in their age and chatted with each other a mile a minute. It also worked out that Glass and Shields were more reserved and laid back. Schaffer though, seemed to already provide a nice cohesive cheerfulness that helped keep them all feeling okay about the monotonous work of the day.

Obviously, they still had the awkwardness of strangers, but Silas had seen the makings of camaraderie enough to know how quickly that would change. By the time the expedition made it to the Columbia he bet that they would all be calling each other by their first names.

Soon the tavern died down and before everyone went to bed the captains gave the sergeants a quick brief of what to expect for tomorrow. Maxwell and Flynn seemed pretty content with the day and laid out a nearly identical plan for the next day. Their schedule put the whole company marching out of Boring, Oregon the day after tomorrow.

Silas fell asleep that night nearly contented with the thought of progress.


	3. 3

The march to Gresham could at best could be described as scenic. However, the problems came about from the tethered caravan of brahmin. More often than not the pace of a few cattle would lag the entire chain. There was little the thirty troopers could do to lessen the delays. The slows felt agonizingly slow. But the true time killers came when the caravan had to be escorted down hills or through overgrown trees embedded in the asphalt's cracks. Silas could only grimace at the scheduling hassles Flynn and Maxwell must have to deal with.

However, Silas thanked the heavens that the April sky gifted them with sunlight and white clouds instead of gray ones. The bright green firs and pines seemed to herald their direction down the northward road. Whenever the forested peripherals of the road gave way to tracks of farmland against the eastern horizon shone a large white mountain. The peak seemed to jut out to the heavens like a beacon to the eastward unknown. At some point, York informed him that before the war that mountain was called Mount Hood.

Silas and his charges walked near the back half of the thirty-yard brahmin chain. The captains thought it best to have near a dozen men out in front of the cattle to clear debris and forge the path.

The dark haired sergeant wished he had lobbied a bit harder to get his people at the front of the line. Guiding the cattle at the back end was literally a shit job. Brahmin were ornery beasts and far from hygienic; being further down the chain only served to increase the difficulty of getting the caked mud and shit off your boots. The only people who had a worse gig were the two troopers at the end of the caravan.

The worst of it came at when the brahmin needed to be moved from the Boring Road down onto the highway that lead toward the ruins of Portland. The lane ended at a destroyed bridge that stretched across the wide expressway. It took over an hour of shouting and coordinating for everyone to safely lead the brahmin chain down the steep hill that connected the road to the highway. Once the animals were settled the expedition took another hour to eat a quick lunch and inspect the cattle before starting up again.

As the march continued it was apparent that the sergeant's little clique still wasn't fully comfortable with each other yet. The group marched with Cpl. Emily Schaffer, Harry Glass and John Shields on the left side of the beasts. This left Silas with the two pups, Jason Lin and Evelyn Tuttle, on the right.

However, it took only a short time of walking before Emily Schaffer began to crack jokes about how the head of the brahmin nearest her should be named Sandy and the head near Silas named Winifred. John Shields then insisted one head should be named Beef and the other Tenderloin. The lightened mood seemed to allow a geyser of conversation from everyone.

Harry soon talked at length about his old medical practice in Klamath. Jason and Evelyn mused about their old lives with their parents and their youthful joy to be independent from them. John Shields, however, was more of a listener than a talker. The large man moved with a zombie like gait and would only interject a word or two when he thought it particularly appropriate or witty. Silas didn't mind much though, he himself greatly preferred listening to people rather than talking about himself. What Silas particularly liked about John was the man's outward pragmatism and determination. He had the look of a man who was capable of weathering untold numbers of storms.

The absent conversation never stopped. Whenever the idle chatter would die down Emily would find some way to start it back up again, either with an abstract question or observational statement. Silas, and everyone else, really appreciated her social initiative. From what the sergeant could gather Emily was probably promoted quickly. Beyond just her social acumen, the woman had clear leadership skills. If this squad was a ship and Silas its captain Emily would no doubt be the first mate.

The sun hung high in the sky by the time the expedition started to see the forested area give way to more ramshackle houses and eventually turn urban. Everyone's conversation seemed to get a bit lighter as each pondered the thought of their destination. Soon after the first sight of the city landscape young Evelyn Tuttle shared some insight about the area. It turned out that the girl's parents were merchants located in one of Portland's many villages. Evelyn's knowledge of the region soon flowed out of her mouth like a river. The girl had a tendency to talk very quickly and Silas seemed like he had to put his brain on hyper speed just to catch the entirety of her words.

According to Evelyn, the village of Gresham was originally called Celestica until the NCR had rediscovered it.

"The NCR explorers have a knack of calling everything they find by the name on their prewar maps, regardless of what the people who lived there called it." The mousy faced girl chided.

Gresham now served as a small trade stop for Camp Chinook, the NCR's forward base at the airport.

The girl went on to say that ever since the republic's arrival the government has tried desperately to push themselves into the region's political ecosystem. The NCR's propaganda machine has spent much of its time trying to acclimate the villages of Portland to the idea of NCR rule.

At the sound of this Harry Glass started to ask about the presence of the local tribes. Amid their monotonous steps and aching legs, the humid air was beginning to assault them and the whole group seemed to want Evelyn to go on., hoping they could forget about the accumulating sweat on their bodies.

The girl went on to say that the regions two largest tribes, the Beavers of Beaverton to the west and the Fives to the north, always clashed about the territory toward the center of the city. However, now that the NCR has reached its arm into all the eastern city suburbs the other factions were reaching a breaking point. The Fives and Beavers were too large, proud and feral to accept leadership under the hand of the NCR.

Silas could only imagine the utter quagmire the region would become in a few months' time. He knew that the republic would gladly go to war with nearly any tribe that would not submit to government law. He had seen his republic do the same thing in the Mojave. As much as he loved his home he hated the thickheaded ravenousness of the two headed bear. He could only hope that this conquest would be different from the last one.

It felt like the entire group quieted in similar contemplation.

The time quickly passed among the words of local gossip. The expedition now felt engulfed in the outer suburbs of Portland. Occasionally they would pass markers painted by NCR rangers pointing the direction of various villages. The signs of civilization slowly crept down on them as well; the expedition started to pass drifters, trade caravans or even an occasional NCR patrol.

When they finally reached the entrance to Gresham the clouds were glowing orange from the setting sun. The settlement sat on the edge of the river and sprawled out into a multistory amalgamation of storefronts, residences and regulatory buildings. The town was built around a collection of several large prewar factories and the locals had built both on top of the factory roofs and the ground level. At its nucleus sat a large building called Celestica where the entire town sprawled out into catwalks, ladders and stairs.

Almost immediately upon entering the town Flynn and Maxwell called the sergeants to meet. Everyone seemed desperate for some rest after their hours of walking and the captains wasted no time in delegating the workload needed before everyone could sleep. Nearly in a blur the group got their orders and moved. Some went off to find lodgings for both the cattle and men. Others stayed with the brahmin and began to slowly detach the chains that tethered them together. The speed at which the tasks were done was quick. Everyone knew that this few tasks were the only thing that stood between them and sleep.

Less than an hour passed before the brahmin were shacked up and the expedition settled into two neighboring inns. After checking to make sure each of his men were situated in their rooms Silas collapsed onto his own bed and immediately fell asleep, clothes and all.

The following days buzzed with activity. The entire expedition dispersed throughout the town at Flynn and Maxwell's order. It felt like untold number of things needed to be done in Gresham before they could depart. The captain's allotted four days to be spent in the town. Four days for business and fun.

Silas could feel the tension in the entire company. The unspoken worries that everyone had. No one knew whether this would be the last civilized town they would see for years. Everyone, no matter how driven, could be seen casting wistful stares or daydreams from time to time. After the day's work of trades for boats, provisions and information the captain's gave free leave of the town.

By far, the most popular destination was a neon lit brothel called _The Riverside Lay & Stay_. Nothing seemed to liven up a band of young military men like a good one stop whorehouse. Silas himself never got tired of them and he'd seen a good many across the entire republic. Another well liked spot was a place called the _Capsa_. This place was a rundown multistory factory that had been fashioned into a tavern. Nearly all the troops could be found there if they weren't already in the brothel.

On the third day the captain's gathered the four sergeants and Cpl. York to meet with the village officials. The town hall stood directly in the center of the city and inside the mayor kept an office to hear managerial news and complaints. The seven explorers met the mayor, an elderly but capable looking gentleman, and proceeded to converse. Flynn and Maxwell adamantly asked about the village's knowledge of other civilized people, tribes or settlements to the east. After three hours and a bit of political coaxing and bribery the mayor gave all the useful information he had.

The mayor insisted that an eastern tribe settled on the river could help the expedition outfit themselves for the walk across the Rockies. Silas' only retained knowledge of these people were their ridiculous sounding name (The Walla Walla) and that finding their territory would mark where they abandoned their boats. The captains and York, however, seemed to be very pleased with information such as this and the mayor found himself a good bit richer by the end of the day.

After the officers dispersed from the mayor's office Silas walked toward the _Capsa_. Occasionally nodding to the local fisher folk, Silas neared the large tavern and to his surprise found Emily Schaffer sitting on the porch, seemingly waiting for him.

"Need anything, Corporal?" Silas asked pleasantly as he strode through the thoroughfare.

The blond haired woman first replied with a slanted grin but it quickly faded. "You can call me Emily, you know." She said not unkindly but with a tone that seemed to suggest some type of undisclosed worry.

Slowing his walk Silas gave her a look that he hoped would let her know that she had his full attention. "What's on your mind, Emily?"

The corporal flashed a grimace before saying, "It's Jason. He's in trouble."


End file.
